
Class L-^D.3j5^5 

Book .11-45^3 
1914 



Author 



Title 



Imprint 



PRICE 15 CENTS 



fT=rL 




The Typewriter Lady 




THE P 



BUSHING COMPANY 



Successful Rural Plays 

A Strong List From Which to Select Your 
Next Play 

FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubes. For five male and six female characters. Time 
of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two 
easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a 
farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New 
Yorker. Philip's mother wants him to marry a society woman, 
and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. 
Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by 
intercepting a letter from Philip to Flora. She agrees to marry 
Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip 
learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple 
plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience 
alternately to tears and to laughter. Price, 25 cents. 

HOMF TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubes. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two 
hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior^ — same for all four 
acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs 
has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter 
Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son 
of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. 
She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. 
When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave 
Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- 
covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then 
he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. 

THE OLD NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New 

England Drama in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For seven 
males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, 
modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich 
in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of 
the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- 
terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- 
uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play 
everybody understands and likes. Price, 25 cents. 

THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy 
in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four 
females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex- 
terior and interior. An adventurer obtains a large sum of money 
from a farm house through the intimidation of the farmer's 
niece, whose husband he claims to be. Her escapes from the 
wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting 
and novel. Price, 15 cents. 

A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in 
Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four 
females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 
One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a 
country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which 
results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker 
in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- 
mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Price 
15 cents. 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 



The Typewriter Lady 

A Farce Comedy in One Act 



By 
EDWARD MUMFORD 

Author of '■'•Waiting for the Trolley^'' '"''Bargain 
Day at Bloomstein^s^^ etc. 




PHILADELPHIA 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1914 



? 



Copyright 1914 by The Penn Publishing Company 



M\ 1; 



ICI.D 8 7055 



The Typewriter Lady 



CHARACTERS 



Julius Juniper . . . who thinks he needs help 
Pkiscilla Pound . . . . who is going to leave 
Carrie Cowley . . . .a timid young person 

Georgiana Going sure of a place 

Belle Beaumont . who feels that blondes are irresistible 

Sammy Slow a valiant office boy 

The Expressman .... who gets in ivrong 

Playing Time. — About forty-five minutes 



ARGUMENT 

Mr. Julius Juniper has been so indiscreet as to squeeze 
the hand of his pretty stenographer, Prissy Pound. Al- 
though Julius apologizes, and Sammy, the office boy, begs 
her to stay, Prissy insists on leaving. Carrie Cowley ap- 
plies, but is very timid, and Sammy scares her off. Geor- 
giana Going, who has worked for Julius before, comes pre- 
pared to go to work at once. Prissy has to come to the 
rescue of Julius and dismisses Georgiana. Before she 
goes, however, Georgiana tells Prissy that Julius has a 
girl's picture in his desk. 

Prissy, though she won't admit it to herself, is jealous. 
Julius engages Belle Beaumont as stenographer, but she is 
too good-looking to suit Prissy, who is evidently weakening. 

Then an expressman is rude to Prissy. Sammy defends 
her valiantly. The expressman attacks Sammy, and Julius 
throws the bully out of the office. Prissy is hysterical, and 
Julius comforts her. Prissy learns that the picture in his 
desk is her own, and she accepts a new position as Julius' 
" partner and wife." 



COSTUMES, ETC. 

Julius. About thirty. Business suit. Winter overcoat 
and hat during part of the action. 

Prissy. About twenty-one. Neat dark dress, suitable 
for office work, and a dainty apron. 

Carrie. About eighteen. Winter street costume, very 
quiet. Everything she does emphasizes her timidity and 
"greenness." 

Georgiana. About twenty-two. Winter street cos- 
tume, with striking and clashing color combinations. A 
very self-confident young person. 

Belle. About twenty-five. Blonde. Quite pretty, and 
knows it. She never forgets that she has a complexion to 
be cared for — and admired. 

Sammy. About fourteen. Knee breeches or long trousers, 
as preferred. Wears apron, reaching from shoulder to 
ankle. Hands very dirty at first entrance, but face almost 
clean until later in the play. 

Expressman. About thirty. A heavy loutish chap, in 
uniform cap and jumper, with dark trousers. 

PROPERTIES 

Prissy. Papers and envelopes. Handkerchief. Type- 
writer. A pair of man's gloves, without buttons. A large 
envelope, sealed. Pencil and note-book. 

Julius. Watch. Note. 

Georgiana. The drawer of a desk, partly filled with 
papers. Dust-cloth. Sealed envelope containing a "snap- 
shot " picture of a girl. 

Belle. Small mirror and a "vanity-box," containing 
powder puff, etc., carried in hand-bag. Note in en- 
velope. Handkerchief. Muff. 

Sammy. A large tin cup, with a long-handled and 
dirty brush protruding from it, and black " marking-ink " 
slopping down the sides. 

Other Properties. Office furnishings, consisting of 
two typewriter desks and typewriters, and a table holding 
some books and letter-files. A large wooden box, off stage, 
arranged to fall with loud noise. 



SCENE PLOT 



INTERIOR BACtSING 



O RACK FOK HATS, 
^^ ETC.. ' 



DOOR TO SHIPPING BOOM 



i^ DOOR. TO HALL. \ 

DOOR TO PRIVATE OFFICE 




SCENE.— Office of Julius Juniper. Entrances c, r., and 
L., as shown. Hooks for clothes up r. c. Desk and type- 
writer down R. Desk and typewriter down l. Table, with 
books and letter-files, l. Chairs and other office furnish- 
ings as desired. 



The Typewriter Lady 



SCENE. — The office <?/■ Julius Juniper, publisher of " The 
World'' s Compendiu7?i of Useful Knowledge.'''' Doors to 
hall, C, to shipping-room, R., and to private office, l. 
Typewriter desks and typewriters down r. aiid L. Table, 
with books and letter-files, L. Clothes-hooks against wall 
up R. c. A few chairs. A man' s hat oti one of the hooks. 

(At rise of curtain enter Puiscilla Pound, l., a large sheaf 
of typewritten letters and envelopes in her hands. With 
head high and a scornful look on her face, she walks to 
her machine down l., throws the papers on the desk be- 
side it and seats herself. For a moment she leans back 
in her chair, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. She 
puts paper iti the tnachitie, and begins to tap the keys 
fiercely. Suddenly she stops, and looks at a pair of 
mafi's gloves lying on her desk. She rises and picks up 
the gloves. ) 

Prissy. The impudence ! I'll show him. I wonder 
what Mr, Julius Juniper thinks I am. ( With one contemp- 
tuous glance at the door L., she picks up the gloves and, 
holdifig them frotn her like so much dirt, carries them 
across R. At c. she begins to walk more slowly, looking 
closely at the gloves.^ My goodness — not a button on either 
of them ! (^She holds the gloves a mottient, then lays them 
almost tenderly on the desk, R., and crosses L, A loud 
crash, as of a falling box, heard off R. Prissy, in the act 
of picking up her handkerchief from her desk, L., starts 
violently and turns v..^ Sammy! {A pause. ^ Sam-mee ! 

(Enter Sammy Slow, slowly, r. He has very dirty hands, 
and carries a tin cup with " jnarking-ink " slopping dozan 
the sides, and a brush sticking out of the cup.) 

Sammy. D' yuh call me? 



8 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

Prissy (jnappily). Certainly I called you. What are 
you doing — making fire- wood of those cases ? 

Sammy. No'm. I was markin' that shipment for New 
York. 

Prissy {^exasperated). My goodness — I told you that 
doesn't go to-day. We must get out those samples. 

Sammy {relieved). Hurray ! 1 hate markin' cases. 

{Sets the cup on desk, R.) 

Prissy {scolding). Sammy, take that dirty cup off the 
desk. 

Sammy {cheerfully). Sure. 

{Picks up cup and puts it on chair up R. C.) 

Prissy {risifig). Sammy ! Take that cup off that chair. 

Sammy {aggrieved) Great Scott, can't 1 put it down a 
minute nowhere ? 

Prissy {sitting down to her work). No. 

Sammy {standing helplessly, C, holding cup). Well, 
what'U 1 do with it, then? 

Prissy. Take it out to the shipping-room, of course. 

Sammy {starting r.). All right. Gee, but you're cross 
to-day. 

Prissy. I have to be, to get you to move. The express- 
man will be here at ten. Hurry, now. 

Sammy (tnovifig up r. very slowly). Well, I am hurryin', 
ain't I? 

(^Exit 'R., whistling.) 

Prissy. That boy will be the death of me. 

{She works a little on the typewriter, very fast. Sammy 
continues to whistle, off R. He stops abruptly as Julius 
Juniper enters l., briskly. He is putting on his over- 
coat.) 

Julius {with a carefully ass7imed businesslike tone). Oh, 
Miss Pound. (Prissy does not pause.) I'm going over to 
Clark and Snelling's about that last job. 

Prissy {her eyes on her work). Yes, sir. 

Julius. Er — the business college is going to send some 
gills over. If any of them come in you might — er — try 
them a bit. 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY 9 

Prissy {very busy). Yes, sir. 

Julius {puttoniftg his coat). I'll leave it to you. You 
know what I want. (Prissy is silent. She is chw ging the 
paper in her machine.') Well, I won't be gone long. 
(Takes his hat from a hook up R. c. and goes toward 
door, c, then returns.) Confound it, where are my gloves? 

{Looks aromid for theni.') 

Prissy {icily). I don't keep your gloves, Mr. Juniper. 

Julius {trying to act as though there is nothing the mat- 
ter, and overdoing it). No, that's right. That's right. 
{Laughs.) They'd be a little large for you, wouldn't they ? 
Just a little — large. Eh ? {No response from Prissy, who 

works on stonily.) Now, what the deuce did I do 

{Feels in pockets, then sees the gloves.) Oh, here they are. 
{Goes r. and picks them up.) Guess I need a nurse — or 
something. {A contemptuous little ladylike sniff from 
Prissy. Julius goes up to door, c.) Going to get all those 
samples out this morning? 

Prissy. Yes, sir. 

Julius. Good. Well — I'm off. {Turns to door.) 

Prissy. You haven't the proofs for Mr. Clark, sir. 

(Julius comes dovDn, lookitig foolish.) 

Julius. Well, by Jove, you're right. Say, what am I 
going to do without you ? (Prissy takes envelope from her 
desk and hands it to hitn. He puts it in his pocket a?id 
stands C. , looking down at her. He is drawitig his gloves 
net-vously through his hands.) Say, Miss Pound, I never 
had any one here looked after things as you do. The office 
has moved like — like grease since you came. Still think 
you must go, do you ? 

Prissy {eyes on her work). Yes, sir. 

(Julius moves a step toivard her, and she suddenly rises, 
facing hitn.) 

Julius. Oh, I'm not going to touch you, honest. Would 
nothing induce you to change your mind ? 

Prissy. No, sir. 

Julius. Look here. I'll give you ten more a month. I 
was going to, anyway, the first of the year. 



10 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

Prissy (^firmly). You know it's not the money, Mr. 
Juniper. 

(Sammy appears r. and stands listening.') 

Julius. No, I know it isn't. Say, Miss Pound, Pm aw- 
fully sorry about last night. I am indeed. 

Prissy {with digtiity). We'd better not talk about it. 

Julius. Well, I want you to know it's worried me. 
Your hand looked so pretty, and 1 didn't think a little thing 
like that would 

Prissy {blazing suddenly). A little thing ! If you think 
I'd let any man squeeze my hand that way 

'jvi.ms {co7jfused). But I apologized. And I assure you 
it won't happen again. 

Prissy {with spirit). No, it won't happen again, Mr. 
Juniper. Once is enough. 

(Julius looks at her admiringly.) 

Julius. Well, Pm sorry we are parting this way. I 
thought we were pretty good friends. 

Prissy. I thought you were a gentleman. 

Julius. That's a swift one. Well, I guess I deserve it. 
It's settled, then. 

Prissy. Yes, sir, it's settled. I'll stay till to-morrow 
night — the end of the week. You can get somebody else by 
then. 

Julius {sighing). Well, you certainly have spunk. I 
never knew a girl like you before. 

Prissy {coldly). You'll be late for your appointment. 

Julius {looking at watch absetttly). That's so. Well, I 
am sorry. I wish you'd believe me. I wouldn't have in- 
sulted you or even hurt your feelings for the world. 

{He turns up c, slowly. Sammy dodges quickly out of sight, 
r. Exit Julius, c. Prissy looks after Julius a nwme?it, 
then sits and bows her head on her arms over the type- 
writer. After a moment thus she straightens resolutely, 
wipes her eyes, and goes to work.) 

{Enter Sammy r., his hands very black. He looks out door 
C. and shakes a fist after Julius, then goes through 
motions of chastising an enemy.) 

Prissy [looking up). Sammy ! What are you doing ? 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY II 

Sammy (confused). Nothin'. 

Prissy. Well, stop it. For the land's sake, what have 
you been doing to your hands ? 

Sammy {looking at hands). Oh, ink upset, that's all. 

Prissy. Well, it's enough. You go and wash them at 
once. 

(Sammy stands 'eyeing her while he rubs his ?iose with the 
back of his right hand. Each ti?ne he touches his face he 
leaves a black mark on it.) 

Sammy. Yes, ma'am. I'm goin' ! 

{Rubs his cheek with left hand.) 

Prissy. Stop that. 

Sammy. What ? 

Prissy. Rubbing your face that way. You're a sight. 

Sammy {rubbing forehead). Yes, ma'am. {Comes 
down to her, zvhisperitig hoarsely. ) Say, Miss Prissy, you 
and him had a row ? {Motions toward door L.) 

Prissy. Sammy, you're impertinent. 

Sammy {coming closer). Aw, I don't mean nothin'. 
But look here, you ain't goin' to leave, are you? 

Prissy. Yes. Now, Sam, get back to those samples. 

Sammy. Yes'm. I'm goin'. Say, he ain't treatin' you 
right. 

Prissy. That will do. 

Sammy. Well, he ain't. Look here, you say the word 
and I'll lay for hira some night. 

Prissy {smiling in spite of herself). Why, Sammy ! 

Sammy {sparring fiercely at his imaginary foe). Well, I 
kin do it. The big stiff ! 

Prissy {going to him, c). I appreciate your friendliness, 
Sammy, but I can handle this alone. {Pats him on shoulder.) 
Now, go back to work. 

'&kMM\ {going up r.). Yes, ma'am. {Pauses at door, 
R.) Justsay the word any time, {Demonstrates with fists.) 

Prissy. Sam, you're the limit. {Laughs.) Go on. 

Sammy, Yes, ma'am. 

{Exit, R.) 

(Prissy begins to pound the typewriter. Enter Carrie 
Cowley, c, pushing door open timidly.) 



12 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

Carrie {retreating). Oh, excuse me, I thought 

Prissy. Well, what is it ? 

Carrie {confused, dropping bag and picking it tip). 
Why, is this the office of — of — uh — of the 

Prissy [crisply). This is Mr. Juniper's office. Did you 
wish to see him ? 

Carrie. Why — no, I — that is, I was looking for the 
World's Compendium Company. 

Prissy. This is their office. 

Carrie. Oh, is it ? 

(JDrops bag again, and picks it np.) 

Prissy. What can I do for you ? {Rises and goes c.) 

Carrie {coming down). Why, I came from Bromley's 
Business College. They said 

Prissy. Oh, you're applying for a place as stenographer? 

Carrie {fluttering). Yes, ma'am. 

Prissy. What's your name ? 

Carkie. Carrie Cowley. 

Prissy. Well, Miss Cowley, sit down at that desk. 
(Carrie sits at desk, r., a^id drops her bag again. She 
picks it up and puts it in her lap. ) Now I'll give you a trial. 

Carrie {scared). Y-yes, ma'am. 

(Prissy brings note-book and pencil and lays them on 
desk, R.) 

Prissy {in businesslike voice). Take this dictation, 
please. (Carrie takes pencil a7id ope?is book.) Mr. John 
M. Hobbs, No. 29 Gordon Avenue, Chicago. Dear Sir : 
Yours of December tenth received. We are sending you by 

prepaid express to-day (Carrie's pencil dashes at the 

paper despairingly. As she leans forward the bag drops 
again to the floor.) Will you have the goodness to put that 
bag on the desk ? 

(Carrie thinks Prissy is dictating, tries to take it, and 
stops CO }f used.) 

Carrie. Oh, excuse me. {Picks up bag, hit in 
stooping pushes book to the floor.) Oh, my goodness ! 

{Picks up book.) 

Prissy {sighing). By prepaid express to-day the samples 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY I3 

you ask for. Please acknowledge receipt. Yours very 
truly, World's Compendium Company. (Carrie makes 
wild stabs at the paper, evidently far behind.') Get that ? 

Carrie. Oh. Yes, ma'am. 

Prissy. Well, write it out on the machine there. You'll 
find paper in the drawer. Make a carbon. 

{Takes papers from her own desk, L., and exit L. Carrie 
stares wildly after her, then puts paper in machine, and 
begins to write. She makes a fuistake, stops, and is 
erasing a word, her face close to machine, when Sammy 
enters R., on hands and knees. He comes dowti C, very 
quietly, then suddenly pokes his blackenedface up infrotit 
of Carrie.) 

Sammy. Boo ! 

(Carrie shrieks, and rises, scattering papers.) 

Carrie. Oh, my goodness ! 

{Slie rushes for the door, C. SamMy, on all fours, chases 
her, barking. At the door she drops her bag, grabs it 
up, and runs out, c) 

Sammy {rising, with innocent amazement'). Well, where's 
that girl goin' so fast? {Grins, and exit, r.) 

{Enter Prissy, l., with papers, which she lays on desk, l.) 

Prissy. Now, Miss Cowley, if you'll let me see what 

you — ■ — {Looks up.) Why, where's the girl gone? 
Sammy ! 

Sammy {appearing r). Yes, ma'am. 

Prissy. Where's the young lady gone? 

Sammy. What young lady ? 

Prissy. Why, the one who was at this desk. 

Sammy. Oh, that typewriter lady ? Why, she — she 
went out. 

{Comes down c.) 

Prissy. Went out? Did she say anything ? 

Sammy. No'm, not much. 

Prissy. Not much? When is she coming back? 

{Goes c.) 



14 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

Sammy, I don't think she's comm' back. 

Prissy. Did she say so ? 

Sammy. No'm. She just looked that way to me. Say, 
she was no good, Miss Prissy. 

Prissy {suspicious). How do you know ? 

Sammy. She hadn't no sand ; no stick-to-it. I knowed 
it the minute I looked at her an' she looked at me. 

Prissy. Oh, then you were here when she went? 
Sammy, you've been up to something. 

Sammy. Who, me? Oh, no'm. 

{Licks his finger and rubs it on his trousers.) 

Prissy. Yes, you have. But I don't care much. I 
couldn't stand for a girl who drops things the way she does. 
Soap and water will clean those hands better than licking 
them. 

Sammy. Yes, ma'am. Say, Miss Prissy 

Prissy. Well ? 

Sammy. Don't you leave ! 

Prissy {sternly). Sam ! 

Sammy (nieekly). Yes, ma'am. 

(^Exit, r.) 

(Prissy stands a moment c. , her hands pressed over her 
eyes. Whistling heard c, door c. thrown opeti, and 
enter Georgiana Going. She swings in with assura7ice, 
and comes down c, stripping off her gloves.) 

Georgiana. Hello, girlie ! 

Prissy. What can 1 do for you ? {Stiffty.) 

Georgiana {laughing). Me? Oh, nothin' at all. I 
hear Juniper wants a stenographer. 'S that right? 

Prissy. Yes, but 

Georgiana {throwing gloves on desk, r.). All right. 
I'm it. Ain't it lucky? 1 quit the Lapham Lumber Com- 
pany only last night, and here I got a place already. An' 
Christmas comin', too. 

Prissy {coldly). But I don't know whether Mr. Juni- 
per 



Georgiana. Forget it. Why, he'll be tickled to death. 
•I worked for him before. 
Prissy {faintly). Oh ! 
Georgiana. Sure. Four years ago. The Lapham 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY 1 5 

people offered me more, though. Ain't it funny how things 
come around? Well, I'll just let him know I'm here. 

{Goes lip L.) 

Prissy. Mr. Juniper is out. 

Georgiana {coming down). Oh, is he? Well, I'll 
take off my things and get right to work. {^Removes coat 
and hat atid hangs them on hooks up c.) Say, what's your 
name, girlie ? 

Prissy {coldly). Pound. 

Georgiana {laughing). Honest ! Well, what do you 
know about that? Mine's Going, Georgiana Going. 
Juniper used to say it ought to be Going-some. He's an 
awful kidder, ain't he? {2k\s>sy goes back to her desk, i..) 
Say, is that your desk ? 

Prissy {working). Yes. 

Georgiana. Well, d'ye mind letting me have it? I 
always had that one. I'll help you change your things over 
right now. 

Prissy. You'd better wait till I leave, to-morrow night. 

Georgiana. Oh, you're leavin' ? Well, I can see you 
ain't Juniper's style at all. He likes a real hustler every 
time. Ain't been here long, have you? 

Prissy. Three years. 

(Sammy appears r.) 

Georgiana. You don't say ! {Looks aroimd.) My, 
how things have run down here. I always said Juniper had 
no system at all. Now that table ought to be on the other 
side. We always had it there. 

Prissy. Mr. Juniper likes it on this side. 

Georgiana. Say, girlie, don't I know what Juniper 
likes. Bul-lieve me, I knovv that man like a book. {Sees 
Sammy.) Oh, boy, come help me with this table. 

Sammy {emphatically.) Nothin' doin', kiddo. 

Georgiana. Well, I like your nerve. Well, I can 
manage it, I guess. 

{She begins to lift books and files from table, carrying them r.) 

{Enter Julius, c. and comes dow7i.) 

Julius. Well, Miss Pound, what's going on here ? 



l6 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

Prissy {coldly). Why, this young lady says 

Georgiana. Oh, how d'ye do, Mr. Juniper? My, but 
you look natural. A little stouter, though, ain't you? 
(^Holds out hand, but Julius ignores it. ) . Say, you ain't 
forgotten me a'ready, have you? 

Julius. Why, your name is familiar, but I can't remem- 
ber your face. 

Georgiana {slapping him playfully on the artfi). Oh, 
go along; that's an old one. 1 was just sayin' you're tlie 
prize kidder. It's Georgy — Georgy Going. Ain't you glad 
to see me or anything ? 

Julius. Oh, yes, of course. Quite a time since I saw you. 

Georgiana. Say, I just left the lumber company last 
night. 

Julius. You're a friend of Miss Pound's, eh ? ' 

Georgiana. Say, quit your kiddin' ! I'm here to take 
the job. 

Julius {nervously retreating up l.). Well, Miss Pound 
will talk to you. Er — excuse me. 

{Hastily bolts through door, L. ) 

Georgiana. Now, ain't that just like a man? Say, I 
don't believe he knows me yet. I'm goin' in to tell him. 

{Exit, L.) 

Sammy {coming down). Say, Miss Prissy {motionifigi..'), 
is she comin' here to work? 

Prissy. Oh, I don't know, Sammy. 

Sammy. Well, I can tell you one thing; she won't last 
long. 

Prissy. Now, Sam ! 

Sammy. Say, leave it to me, that's all. {Hoarse wh's- 
per.) Machine out of order every day? Oh, no, I guess 
not ! 

Prissy. Sara ! {Severely.) 

Sammy. Ssh ! Not a word. Ink upset on her papers ? 
Oh, no; never. {Winks.) 

Prissy. Sam ! You wouldn't. 

Sammy. Who, me? What you talkin' about? I can't 
help it if her chair gets weak an' lets her down, can I ? 

Prissy. Sam, if you play any tricks I'll tell Mr. Juniper. 

Sammy. Huh! You won't be here. 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY 1 7 

Prissy {weakly). That's so. Well, you mustn't, any- 
way. 

Sammy (coming close). Say, Miss Prissy, you stay, won't 
you ? Honest, it won't seem the same here if you go. He'll 
miss you terrible. 

(Julius hastily enters L.) 

Prissy. Oh, no he won't. He'll have Georgiana. 

Julius. What's that about Georgiana? Say, Miss 
Pound, what shall I do with that girl ? 

Prissy. She seems like a rapid worker. 

Julius. Rapid? She's a whirlwind — an avalanche. 
She'll soon own the place again. When she left four years 
ago I felt like hiring a band to celebrate. And now she's 
back ! 

Prissy. Well, send her away. 

Julius. Huh! You don't, know Georgy. What do 
you suppose she's doing in there ? (^Motions L.) 

Prissy. I can't imagine. 

Julius. Cleaning up my desk. Pulling things out of the 
drawers — everything ! 

Sammy. Say, Mr. Juniper, the feller in the next office 
gimme two mice this morning. What d'ye say I slip 'em in 
one of the desk drawers — eh ? 

Julius. Sam, get back to work. 

Sammy. Yes, sir. (Goes out, r.) 

Julius. Look here, Prissy, you must 

Prissy {indignant). Sir ! 

Julius. Oh, I beg your pardon. That confounded girl 
has upset me so. And I usually think of you as Prissy, you 
know. 

Prissy. Mr. Juniper, you forget yourself. 

Julius. Oh, I apologize — I apologize. Only it's so, you 
know. Please get me out of this scrape. There's a good 
girl. 

Prissy. You don't deserve it. 

Julius. I know, I know. But fire Georgy and you can 
lecture me as much as you like, later. Just think what 
she's doing to my desk. 

Prissy. In a week she'll upset the whole office. 

Julius. In a month she'll ruin the business. 

Prissy (relenting). Well, for the sake of the busi- 
ness 



10 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

Julius. Say, you're a brick, Prissy. Oh, excuse me — 
excuse me — Miss Pound. I'll send her out to you. 

{Rushes out L.) 

{^Ettter Georgiana ' l. She has the dratver of a desk, 
partly filled with papers, which she is wiping with a 
cloth.') 

Georgiana. Well, it's easy to see that man needs some 
one to look after him. Talk about dust ! Did you want to 
see me ? 

Prissy. Yes. Miss Going, there's no place here for 
you. 

Georgiana (astonished'). What ! 

(Julius enters softly l. and tiptoes across to door R., and 

exit.) 

Prissy. You've made a mistake. Mr. Juniper doesn't 
need you. 

Georgiana. Don't need Say, did he tell you to 

tell me that ? {Puts desk drawer on table, L.) 

Prissy. Yes. 

Georgiana. Well, I want you to understand that no- 
body can fire me but the boss — see ! The idea. I'll find 
out about this. {Goes up l.) 

Prissy. It's no use. He's not in his office. 

Georgiana {incredulous). Huh ! {Opens door, l.) 
Well, what do you know about that ? I'll tell Juniper 
what I think of him, bul-lieve me ! 

Prissy. Really, you'd better not wait. 

Georgiana {comijig dotvn a?id looking at Prissy 
curiously). Say, girlie, I guess you have got some back- 
bone, haven't you ? 

Prissy. Maybe. There's your hat. 

(Georgiana gets hat.) 

Georgiana, Look here. You're not going to leave, 
are you ? {She puts on hat and coat.) 

Prissy. Yes. 

Georgiana. Well, I don't wonder. How did you 
stand him for three years? 

Prissy. Mr. Juniper — has been very kind. 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY I9 

Georgiana. Huh ! No more manners than a goat. 
Say, who's he sweet on ? 

Prissy. How should I know ? 

Georgiana. Listen to that ! {Laughs.) My, I'll 
bet if I was here I'd know her name in half a day. He's 
got her picture in the drawer there. 

iPoirds to drawer on table, l.) 

Prissy {surprised'). How do you know? 

Georgiana. Saw it. Here it is. {Takes envelope 
from drawer.) It's sealed, but if you hold it up to the 
light {holding it up) you can see it's a girl. Let's open it. 

{About to do so.) 

VvassY {snatching envelope). No! Aren't you ashamed ? 

Georgiana {lightly). Oh, my, you needn't get so 
peeved. Well, give it to Juniper with my compliments, an' 
tell him any girl who gets him is welcome to him. So long, 
girlie. {Holds out her hand.) 

^RiszY {taking hafid stiffiy). Good-bye. I hope you find 
a good place. 

Georgiana. Place ! Don't fool yourself. I'm goin' 
to be right here. Tell him I'll be back. He needs some 
one to look after him. {Shakes fist at door, l.) My, how 
I hate that man. But I can manage him. Don't you 
worry about little Georgy. Ta, ta, girlie ! 

{Laughs, and exit c.) 

(Prissy stands down c, pressing the envelope to her breast. 
Finally she looks cautiously around, atid holds it up to 
the light. Evidently she can see little of the picture in 
this way. She stands a moment, fighting the temptation 
to open the envelope. Then, yielding, she puts a finger 
under the flap. Julius enters R. and Prissy hastily slips 
the envelope into her dress. Enter Sammy, r.) 

Julius {joyfully). Well, is she gone ? Is she gone ? 

{Comes down.) 

Prissy, Yes, sir. 

Julius. Hurray ! hurray ! {Dances around like a 



20 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

boy. Sammy, up c, silently itnitates him. Julius turns 
and sees Sammy.) Sam ! What are you doing? 
Sammy [frighlened^. N-nothin', sir, 
Julius. Well, stop it and get back to work, 
Sammy, Yes, sir, I'm goin'. 

{Exit, R.) 

Julius {to Prissy). Well, you're a wonder. What did 
she say ? 

Prissy. She's coming back to see you. 

Julius. Not if 1 see her first. What's this ? {Sees 
the desk drawer. '), Did she bring it out here? 

Prissy. Yes, sir. 

Julius. Well, that girl has the nerve of a coal baron. 
(Ficiis up drawer.) if she comes back I'm out — o-u-t — 
out. 

Prissy {sitting at desk). Yes, sir. 

{Exit Julius, l.) 

(Prissy draws out envelope^ and is about to open it when 
Belle Beaumont enters c. Prissy shoves the envelope 
under papers on her desk.) 

Belle. Good-morning, 
Prissy. Good-morning. 
Belle. Is — ah — Mr. Juniper in ? 

Prissy, Yes. {Rises.) Who shall I tell him 

Belle {sinking into chair, r., gracefully). Please say 
that Miss Beaumont is here. 

{Draws mirror and ^^ vanity box ''^ from her hand-hag or 
7fmff, atid arranges veil, hair, etc.) 

Prissy. Did you say Beaumont ? 

Belle. Yes. (Prissy goes up l.) Ah, one moment. 
(Prissy returns.) I forgot. Please hand him this note. 

(Prissy takes note, and glances at her desk and back to 
Belle, who is prinking. Exit Prissy, l. /« a moment 
she retur?is and comes damn to her desk.) 

Prissy. He'll be here in a minute. {Works savagely.) 
Belle {drawling). Oh, tha-anks. Is my hat on straight ? 
Prissy {without looking up). Yes. 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY 21 

Belle. Tha-anks. Do you consider Mr. Juniper nice- 
looking ? 

Pkissy. Yes — no. 

Belle (^pattmg hair). My, I'm sorry. I like to work 
for nice-looking men, don't you ? 

Prissy (^j'lji' on her work). Humph! Handsome is as 
handsome does. 

Belle. Ah, of course. But if they are good-looking too. 
The last gentleman I worked for was a dream. Honest. 
That man had the loveliest eyes. And the cutest little 
dimple in his chin. He got married, though. Is Mr, 
Juniper married ? 

Prissy {shortly). No ! 

Belle. Honest ? {Looks at herself in mirror, and puts 
powder on nose.) I guess I'll like this place. 

Prissy. So you're a stenographer. 

Belle. Oh, yes, I don't expect to die in the job, 
though. 

Prissy. Indeed. (^Keeps on working.) 

Belle {complacently). Oh, no. I expect to get mar- 
ried. Don't you? 

Prissy. No. 

Belle. Oh, don't give up hope. You're not so bad- 
looking, really. 

Prissy {scorfifully). Thanks. 

Belle. Of course, the men like blondes best. {^Uses 
mirror.) Now, I do hope Mr. Juniper is 

(^Enter Julius, l., with note in his hand.) 

Julius. Miss Beaumont ? 

Belle {risifig, and giving hand with society air). Oh, 
Mr. Juniper. So pleased to meet you. 

Julius. Er — thanks. {He is evidently impressed with 
Belle's good looks.) I see you have been with my old 
friend Mr. Tompkins. 

Belle. Yes. Isn't he a grand man ? And so hand- 
some. 

Julius {^glancing at note). He seems to think you are a 
pretty good stenographer. 

Belle. Oh, I've had experience. (^Sits, and drops her 
muff. Julius gallantly restores it with a bow.) Oh, thank 
you so much, Mr. Juniper. 



22 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

(Belle smiles sweetly at Julius, and Prissy glares at 
Belle.) 

Julius. If you could handle Tompkins' work you could 
probably do mine. {Looks at note.') I suppose you'll come 
for the salary he says he paid you ? 

(Prissy annoyed.') 

Belle. Oh, yes. 

Julius (with a glance at Prissy). Well — (^pausing) 
well, we're going to have a vacancy here, I'm sorry to say. 
Can you come on Monday ? 

Belle. Oh, yes. {Beams on hwi.) I think I'll like it 
here, Mr, Juniper. 

Julius. I'm sure you will, Monday at nine, then. 

Belle {rising and dropping handkerchief). Very well — 
Monday at nine, 

{Goes up c. Neither Belle nor Julius sees the hand- 
kerchief.) 

Julius {opening door, c, galla?ttly). Allow me. 

Belle. Oh, thank you, Mr. Juniper. {Impressively.) 
Good-bye. 

Julius. Good-bye, Miss Beaumont. {Exit Belle, c. 
Julius remains tip c.) Well, quite a looker, isn't she? 

Prissy. Oh, 1 don't know. 

Julius {looking at note). Tompkins says she's the most 
competent girl he ever had. 

(Prissy rises and carries papers up r.) 

Prissy. Oh, she's competent. She's right on the job. 

Julius. But you don't like her? 

Prissy {at door r.). I think she's a horrid, bold, artful, 
designing minx. And I think you're as blind as a bat. 
That's what I think. There ! 

{Exit, R.) 

Julius {staring after her). Well — I'll be darned ! 

{Exit, L.) 

(Prissy, after a moment, appears r., looks to make sure he 
is gone, and comes down c.) 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY 23 

Prissy {bursting with indiguatioii). Oh, oh ! 

{She sees Belle's handkerchief on the floor, grabs it up, 
carries it tip C. and throws it out the door. The Ex- 
pressman is just entering, and it strikes hifn in tlie face.^ 

Expressman {roughly). Hey — what' re you about ? 

Prissy {aghast). Oh, I beg your pardon. 

Expressman. Well, why don't you look what you're 
doin' ? You threw that rag right in my face. Got them 
packages ready ? {Comes down.) 

Prissy. I don't know. I'll see. {Calls.) Sammy! 

Sammy {entering^.). Yes'm. 

Prissy. Those packages ready? 

Sammy. Er — no, ma'am ; not quite. 

Expressman [loudly). Not quite ! I ain't got time to 
loaf around here all day. {To Prissy.) Didn't you tell 
me to call at ten ? 

Prissy. I thought they would be ready by now. Can't 
you come a little later ? 

Expressman. No, I can't. You girls seem to think we 
have nothin' to do but ride in the elevators. 

Sammy {coming down and facing Expressman). Say, 
you big hunk of wind, don't you know how to treat a lady ? 

(Julius appears tip l.) 

Expressman {grabbing Sammy's arm and twisting it). 
You fresh little guy. Pll talk to her the way I like, see? 
Prissy. Let that boy alone. 
Expressman {ptishing her rotighly). Don't you butt in. 

(Julius takes the Expressman by the collar atid jerks him 
back, throwing him on the floor.) 

Julius. That will be about enough from you. 

Expressman {rising). I won't let any fresh kid 

Julius. Not another word. Get out of here. 



Expressman {yelling). I want you to understand 

Julius. I want you to understand nobody can insult a 
lady in my office. Open the door, Sam. 

(Sammy runs up and opens door, c. Julius grabs the Ex- 
pressman, htistles him tip c. and throws him otit the 
door. Sammy dances delightedly ifi the doorway.) 



24 THE TYPEWRITER LADY 

Sammy. I guess that'll hold you for a while, you fat slob ! 
(^Exit, c.) 

(Prissy stands leaning agaitist desk, L. , sobbing hysterically. 
Julius comes down and puts his left arm around her.') 

Julius. There, there, little girl. Cheer up. It's all 
over. 

Prissy. Oh, I know. I — I can't help it. 

Julius. Don't cry. He's gone. 

Prissy {siiddetily realizing where she is'). Oh, let me 
go. (^Pushes him away.) 

Julius. Miss Pound — Prissy. 

Prissy (wiping her eyes). Oh, you were splendid, Mr. 
Juniper. That man frightened me so. 

Julius. It'll cost him his job. No man can insult you 
when I'm around, Prissy. (She looks up at him sudde?ily, 
and they both laugh.) Except me, Prissy. And I'll never 
do it again. Look here (He steps toward her.) 

Prissv (holding him off). Mr. Juniper ! 

Julius (taking her hand). Prissy, you can't leave me. 
I need you. 

Prissy. That blonde girl's coming Monday. 

Julius. Blondy be hanged. I know what I want at last. 
I need a partner. 

Prissy. Mr. Juniper ! 

Julius. I love you. There, it's out. I want you for a 
partner — and a wife. Now, Prissy, will you stay ? 

Prissy. Why — why, Mr. Juniper ! 

Julius (correcting her). Julius. 

Prissy (shyly, looking up at him). Julius, 

{Enter Sammy, c.) 

Julius. Come here. (He takes Prissy in his arms.) 
Will you forgive me for being so stupid ? 

Prissy (suddenly springing away). But what about that 
girl in your desk ? 

Julius [puzzled). In my desk ! 

Prissy. Yes — the picture. Here. 

(Picks up the envelope and hands it to him.) 

Julius. What on earth ? {Laughs.) Did Georgy find 
that ? 



THE TYPEWRITER LADY 25 

Prissy. Yes. 

Julius {tearing envelope open'). Look ! 

{Hands her picture.) 

Prissy. My picture ! Then you loved me all the time. 

Julius. Yes. But I never knew it till I thought 1 was 
going to lose you. {Holds out ar?ns.') 

Prissy. Oh, Julius, you certainly need some one to look 
after you. 

Julius. Then you'll stay ? 

Prissy. Yes. {Goes to him.) 

Sammy. Hurray ! 

(Prissy ««^ Julius spring apart.) 

Julius. Sara, come here. (Sammy comes down, rather 
frightened.) Let me present you to Mrs. Juniper. 

(Sammy wipes his hand on his trousers and offers it to 
Prissy, grinning.) 

Sammy. Pleased to meet you. Say, them others was no 
good. Miss Prissy. 

Julius. And now you run around to the business col- 
lege and tell them they needn't send a stenographer. I'n: 
suited. {Takes Prissy' s hand.) 

Sammy, r. Julius, c. Prissy, l. 



curtain 



Unusually Good Entertainments 

Read One or More of These Before Deciding on 
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GRADUATION DAY AT WOOD HILL SCHOOL. 
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PHILADELPHIA 



Unusually Good Entertainments 

Read One or More of These Before Deciding on 

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A SURPBISE PARTY AT BRINKLEY'S. An En- 
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HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy 
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